


Runaways

by moonshoe



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, JFC HELP ME, M/M, by accident, they're in canada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshoe/pseuds/moonshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both ran from something in their life and met each other at a bar and basically fell in love I guess. I didn't even mean for it to be romantic, I wanted it to be platonic but things escalated and all of a sudden they both caught feelings. Goddammit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaways

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhh lmao it's cute kinda. I like it. It wasn't supposed to be romantic but I don't think I'll ever be able to NOT make them attracted to each other so that's great. Got that goin' for me. Anyway my favorite character in this by far is the old lady, in my mind her name is Bernadette. Also they ended up in Canada b/c Canada is a wonderful and magical place as long as you're not in the middle of nowhere, which they absolutely are. Don't take life lessons from this story please. Don't sleep in a car with a stranger you met in a bar. Don't do many of the other irresponsible things these assholes do in this story. 
> 
> Also I made it pretty clear that Han doesn't drink and drive. That's a life lesson to take away. Yeah. Don't do that. Aight. Now go enjoy some godforsaken space gays

The amber colored liquid spun around, making a miniature waterspout as he gently swirled the whiskey in his glass tumbler, surveying his surroundings. He didn’t have many expectations for the evening, it was already late—and he’d been through enough in the past few weeks to want to be left the hell alone. 

He took a sip, relishing the sting like he always did. He frowned, because no one should like pain. Shaking his head lightly, he assured himself that the only enticing thing about it was the fact that he could stand a lot of it without much issue and for some reason, he felt that that made him a stronger person. It didn’t. 

His legs were bent awkwardly, his knees shoved into the wood of the bar and the heels of his boots resting on the metal rod on the bottom of his stool. He didn’t know why he was even here. He had better whiskey in his own stores. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he felt pissed off and tired. He sat up straight in his seat as he thought about downing the drink and leaving and the idea saddened him. He realized that he didn’t want to be alone, and it made him feel depressed. He slouched over again and resented himself for becoming one of the sad people that sit aimlessly in bars by themselves. 

He twisted a bit to his right when he raised a hand to comb through his hair—a nervous habit he’d acquired. Before centering back to face his drink on the empty bar, a figure caught his eye. The only other person sitting at the bar was drenched in shadows and was hunched over their drink, too. They assumed the same position that he himself did: one of closed-off contemplation and resignation to a lonely night. 

He took another sip of his drink and cursed the song that’d started to play a bit too loudly in the run-down joint obviously trying to compensate for its scrappy appearance with trashy but popular music. He glanced around the bar. The only other people in the building were a group of older men sitting at one of the booths in the back, whispering covertly, and the bartender. She was a teeny, old, but strong looking woman with hot pink hair and a shirt that said “Death to Hipsters” in big black letters. When he’d ordered his drink she’d said “’Aight hon,” in a Brooklyn accent. He didn’t know her but knew that he’d probably do good to be more like her.

He felt eyes on him. The bartender was on the phone and the men in the back were still engrossed in their conversation. He lifted the glass to his eyes, pretending to scrutinize the contents while really he was looking in the reflection for the figure to the right of him. Sure enough, he could see the person’s knees facing him, having swiveled away from the bar. He placed his drink back on the bar and turned to meet the stranger’s gaze. 

The stranger stood, drink clutched in hand and stepped out into the dim light. It was a man, dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo with a red carnation pinned on the lapel. His shoes clicked lightly across the dirty floor. His blonde hair was parted on the side and slicked back. He caught the bartender’s attention and asked for a refill. His voice was hoarse, but soft. Had he been crying? 

He sat down on the barstool next to him, arms stretched out and hands splayed out on the bar. His legs dangled and swung around the stool. ‘He’s like a little kid,’ he thought. Without looking up, the stranger spoke. 

“Hello.” 

“Hey.”

“What’s your name?” 

He hesitated. He didn’t want conversation really… but, he reasoned with himself, he didn’t want to be alone, either. And this stranger was a little… endearing. He sighed in resignation. 

“I’m Han.” He raised the glass to his lips again, taking a larger amount than before. 

The stranger smiled a little bit, but he still looked sad. He still looked like a little kid. They sat in silence, because Han was still having a little internal battle. He could be polite and ask the kid his name in return to feed his need to not be alone, or he could continue to ignore him and feed his need to not talk to anyone. The kid got impatient. 

“I’m Luke,” he chirped, now twisting the bar stool completely to face Han. He was still swinging his legs. Looking down, Han realized that they were too short to reach the metal rod at the bottom of the stool. He smirked. 

“What brings you to a place like this looking like that,” Han asked, indicating Luke’s attire with a wave of the hand with the glass in it. 

Luke’s face fell completely and he slowly spun back to the bar. His shoulders drooped and he cupped his drink with both hands and stared into the—

‘Oh my god,’ thought Han, ‘the kid ordered chocolate milk at a bar at 2am.’ 

Luke stretched his lips to meet the straw poking out of the top of the glass. He was still staring at the chocolate milk like it’d been bullying him for the past seven years. 

“I ran away from something. I made a bad decision and I just… ran away.” He looked like he was on the verge of tears. He sniffed softly and propped up his elbows to rest his chin on his hands. 

At Luke’s words, Han froze. He downed the rest of his drink before asking for a refill. Once he got it, he drank half of it before addressing what Luke had said. 

“Did you run away from an idea, or from people?” Han asked, eyes boring into the side of Luke’s face. 

“Both,” Luke confessed, voice breaking. His hands moved from holding his chin to holding his face, fingers wrapping around strands of his hair. 

Han didn’t know what to do; he was always so bad with situations like this. He awkwardly stretched out his arm with intent to put it on the kid’s shoulder and hesitated. He retracted it and cleared his throat. 

“That makes two of us, kid.” He took out a cigarette from an inside pocket of his coat.

Luke slowly lifted his head from his hands and turned to look at the older man. 

Han was watching him while he lit the cigarette. He sighed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight. But he didn’t want to be alone. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But—

“I ran from my own wedding,” Luke whispered. His own eyes widened. Hearing himself utter the words for the first time brought a new wave of pain and guilt. He chanced a glance at Han. The older man had his hand in his own hair, leaning back in his barstool with a strange expression on his face. He looked so sad… so tired. 

“Do you wanna talk more about it, kid?” Han finally offered, looking into his refilled glass. He was starting to feel the effects of the liquor. 

Luke considered this. Maybe it’d be good to confess his sins to, even if it was a stranger. 

He thought about how priests were usually strangers to sinners, too. 

“My parents are rich, they needed me to marry someone rich. The girl they decided on is terrifying… and I’m gay,” he added the last statement with hesitation, but he figured it was a significant reason as to why he ran away in the first place. 

“I’d been dressed in this suit I’d never seen before, I didn’t have any choices in the wedding, and planning took all of four days. There were hundreds of people there, and before the ceremony could start, I just… left. I took a bus and waited until it reached its last stop, and now I don’t really know where I am or what I’m gonna do,” he sniffled, as his voice broke again. 

Han was watching him intently, ignoring the aching in his chest as he considered this mess of a kid in front of him, this kid… this kid who’d been forced to make a monumental commitment to someone he obviously didn’t care about. He looked away harshly. Luke’s story hit a little too close to home. He crushed his cigarette in the ash tray nearby.

Luke’s gaze finally met Han’s again. His eyes were like crystals, made even more pronounced by the tears that had started accumulating. One fell and dragged a jagged line down his face. Luke looked away again, quickly, and rested his chin on his hands again. 

“I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore,” he said softly. Han saw more tears cut tracks down the boy’s face. His chest ached more and more. He saw his own hand reach up and grasp the boy’s shoulder, trying to provide stability that he couldn’t afford to sacrifice. 

Luke sniffed. He took several sips from his chocolate milk and looked back towards Han, offering a watery smile. 

“So, Mister Han. What’s your reason for being in a place like this at this time of night?” He was trying to lighten the conversation, but Han knew that anything he had to say himself would just add to the misery the kid was experiencing. 

“Ah, just avoiding my own issues,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, trying to hint at his reluctance to discuss his reasons. Luke didn’t get the message. The kid swiveled the bar stool so that his knees faced Han again. His legs were still swinging. 

“What issues, Han? C’mon, I was candid. It’s your turn. You’re never gonna see me again, it’s not like it matters that a stranger knows your secrets,” Luke teased, taking another drink. 

Han sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. He guessed it’d be nice to tell someone… especially someone like this kid, whose problem was somewhat similar to Han’s anyway. Telling Han certainly seemed to help him, so why not try for some relief? 

“I ran away from my wife,” Han said gruffly, downing the rest of his fourth drink. He realized that it was probably the liquor making him talk to the kid in the first place. “Last drink,” he thought to himself. 

Luke’s eyes widened, but he didn’t take his mouth off the straw. He didn’t want to appear judgmental. He looked at Han as though urging him to continue. 

“I just… I looked up one day and we both had 9 to 5 jobs. We had an organized dish set and a spice rack. We had a tomato garden and were planning meals for the week. I told her when we were discussing marriage that I didn’t want suburbia, I didn’t want stagnancy… I wanted adventure and a spontaneous life. When we talked about it then, she agreed completely, saying she didn’t want to get boring.” 

He took a shaky breath and continued. 

“When I talked to her about it a few months ago as soon as I realized we’d fallen into that trap, she was angry. She said I was sabotaging our life, that we were happy and content and ‘how dare you risk what we’ve made together’. She didn’t want the things I wanted anymore. I kept trying to get her to come with me to new places, to learn new things, but she was too busy. I quit my job. I started being reckless. She resented me, and we’ve been fighting nonstop… I’ve just had enough. I left yesterday and I drove in one direction until I got tired. And, well. Here I am.”

His face felt hot, his hands were shaking slightly. He balled them into fists, trying to regain control. He’d said more than he wanted to, but his emotions were raw. He felt frayed and on the brink of making a series of bad decisions. He looked over to the kid and saw those blue eyes shining up at him from underneath the blonde fringe. His chest ached again. The kid was cute and looked so out of place in that ridiculous get-up. 

“Luke, did you bring anything with you when you left?” Han asked, looking around for a bag or something of the kid’s. 

Luke shook his head sadly. 

“I didn’t think I had time. I have my wallet which has a bit of cash in it, along with a debit card to my parents’ account… even though they probably’ve shut mine off by now,” he added, suddenly realizing how screwed he was. He didn’t have anything. Why didn’t he think this through? He started to shake as tears silently fell down his face in earnest. He took a great shuddering inhale of breath, trying to calm himself down—he didn’t want to be like this in front of Han, who seemed cool and collected and handsome as ever, and whose situation was equally as bad as his own. 

“Hey, hey. Shh, hey, Luke, it’s fine. I have some extra clothes in my car, you can take those. We’ll get you set up, please. Just calm down.” Han’s hand was back on Luke’s shoulder, rubbing circles into his arm through the thick fabric of the suit. Luke sniffed and looked up at the older man in surprise.

“You hardly know me. Why would you help?” 

“Because… because you seem like a genuinely good person who got stuck in a bad situation. I don’t like when people don’t get a choice in their own life,” Han said, standing. He grabbed Luke’s shoulders, looking at him in the face. “And I’m looking for more adventures,” he added with a half smile. Luke sniffed again and smiled back. He stood up too, looking at the bar that had their empty glasses standing next to one another and pulled out his wallet, but Han had already taken care of it. He left a bit of an extra tip for the badass old lady, bid a goodnight, and led the way out of the bar with Luke in tow. 

They both shivered as the night air hit them. It was late spring but the wind was strong and the temperature was relatively low. The parking lot was nearly empty except for three cars: one black SUV, one yellow convertible Volkswagen, and one beat-up silver BMW. Han headed for the latter of the three and popped open the trunk. Half of it was taken up by tools and an extra car tire. The other half was an array of clothes, water bottles, and blankets. Han rifled through this pile and found a pair of worn jeans and a red t-shirt that said “Kessel Run 2009” with a picture of a sneaker with wings underneath it. Luke smiled.

“This should work fine for ya, kid. I don’t think I have much else that’d fit you. You can change in the bar, there was a bathroom in there I think.” 

Luke smiled. “Thanks, Han. Be right back.” 

Han watched as he saw Luke’s back retreat into the grubby bar. He smiled. The kid was cute, he had to admit. And Luke was gay, too. That made Han feel conflicted… Luke had just left an (albeit shitty) engagement and Han himself just abandoned a marriage of six years. ‘Maybe that’s more reason to want to be with someone, even if it’s a stranger,’ he thought to himself. He shook his head roughly. He was still drunk. He couldn’t drive tonight… he turned his head around, looking for a motel or something. It hit him then that he had no idea where he was. He drove for so long but he was so angry and upset that he didn’t spare a thought to look at signs. He knew he’d driven North from Southern California. He looked at his watch and his eyes widened. He’d driven for a solid 26 hours. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes thinking about where he could be… he just kept going North. He must be in Canada. Jesus. 

He was leaning up against his car, hands deep in his pockets. It was cold. Pushing himself off the car, he started to walk back to the bar, intending to ask the bartender about any possible lodgings for the evening. Entering the bar again, the men in the corner stopped talking and threw him a filthy look. He ignored them and approached the bar. 

“Ma’am, could you please point me in the direction of a motel? I can’t go anywhere tonight.” 

The woman was wiping down the bar. She paused and walked over to him. 

“Honey, you’re in the middle a’nowhere. Your best bet’d be about twelve miles down the main highway, there’s a little town there… but you can’t drive after the way you’ve been drinkin’.” She looked around the bar and then back to Han, appearing to consider him for a minute before leaning closer to him. 

“If ya wait about ten minutes, I can pull your car around back. There’s a garage, you can sleep it off in your car and then head on your way.” 

Han sighed and smiled, knowing that she was going out of her way to help him but still being disappointed that he didn’t really have any other options. 

“Thank you very much, it’s appreciated.”

He had the kid, too…. What was he gonna do with him? He hardly knew Luke, but it was so easy to feel protective of him, to feel possessive. 

‘Hold the FUCK up,’ something in his mind started screaming at him, banging pots and pans together. ‘You JUST left a long term MARRIAGE, you’re not allowed to feel possessive about anything other than your own skin!’ 

Han shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, thinking argumentatively with himself that the kid didn’t have anyone to care for him, he was alone and probably has never been alone in his life. He needed help, and it was just an added bonus that he was adorable. 

Just then, he heard the squeak of wood and looked up to see Luke walking towards him wearing too-big-jeans and a shirt that pooled around his chest. He was using one hand to hold up the pants and the other to carry the unceremoniously-balled-up tuxedo. Han’s body suddenly felt very heavy, like someone was sitting on his chest. The kid looked so cute and scared, and he was wearing Han’s clothes… 

“Alright kid. You’re gonna need a belt probably… come with me.” 

He turned on his heel, needing to stop looking at Luke, and strode out of the bar. When he reached his car, he popped open the trunk again and rifled through the clothes section for a while, coming up empty. Then he had an idea. He started looking through the tool section and found a length of rope. He grinned and turned around, showing it to Luke who giggled a bit before hitching the jeans up again. Han took the tuxedo from him and put it in the clothes section. 

He turned around to face Luke and looked him in the eyes. Luke’s were growing darker. He stepped toward Han, using one hand to lift up the shirt a bit, exposing the belt loops and a bit of his tan stomach. 

“Go ahead,” he whispered softly. 

Han swallowed and moved to push the rope through the first loop, feeling Luke’s hip bone under his fingers. He reached around the kid’s waist as he continued to the back of the jeans, pulling his body closer in the process. 

Luke’s head was ducked down, watching Han’s fingers come around the other side of him. His hands were holding up the fabric of the shirt, and the band of his black boxers was showing above the jeans. 

Han reached the front, barely breathing as he tucked the rope through the last loop. He wrapped his fingers around both sides of the rope and pulled lightly, causing Luke’s hips to jerk towards his own. He suppressed a smirk as he heard a small gasp from the kid. He tied off the makeshift belt in a knot and his hands dropped by his sides. Luke couldn’t have been more than an inch away from him. Watching the top of the kid’s ducked head, he felt hands on his wrists as they dragged his fingers back to Luke’s waist. Luke started to look up. 

Luke had a small smile on his lips and his hands were still covering Han’s on his own waist. His eyes didn’t meet Han’s… they met Han’s lips. They watched as Han’s lips parted, taking in a small breath. Luke’s hands left Han’s on his waist and reached up to his chest. The air was thick. It was hard to breathe. 

“What are we gonna do, Han? We’re basically self-convicted fugitives,” Luke whispered, not looking away from Han’s mouth. Han licked his lips and bent his forehead down to meet Luke’s. 

“I dunno, kid… but I’m not gonna be worried about that tonight. We can save that problem for tomorrow.” Luke’s hands snaked upwards from their resting place on Han’s chest to lock behind Han’s neck and pull slightly. He stood on his tip-toes. 

They were face to face, eyes closed. Han felt dizzy and blindly content, and Luke felt comfortable for the first time in months. Luke closed the gap between their mouths and he felt how gentle and soft Han’s lips were. They remained like this for a few moments before Luke opened his mouth and immediately felt Han’s teeth on his lip and his tongue starting to explore what was in front of him. Luke groaned and Han’s hands pulled Luke closer so they were in full contact before they rose to hold Luke’s face. Distantly, he heard the bar door open. 

“Hey Horn-dog. Am I movin’ your car, or what?!” The old woman yelled from the steps of the building. 

Han pulled away, one hand drifting to Luke’s waist. He then had a realization—maybe the kid could drive. He never thought to ask. 

“Luke. Do you have a license? Can you drive?” 

“I have a permit. I’m twenty, but my parents never let me go for the test, thinking I’d leave if I got the chance. I mean, I still was able to leave, but—“ 

“Yes, ma’am!” Han cut him off, yelling back to the woman. He looked down at Luke. Both were pink in the face but smiling. 

“Do you even have a place to stay, kid?” asked Han, knowing the answer. 

Luke shifted. “No,” he admitted, smile gone and face burning. 

Han draped his hand around his shoulder as the woman strode across the gravel parking lot with surprising agility. 

“Well, you have one, if you want it,” Han said, handing the woman the keys with a whispered “thanks”. “It’s obviously not gonna be much tonight, but tomorrow we’ll stay at a hotel while we figure out what to do. If you want,” he added nervously, not wanting the kid to think that he wanted him to come along (even though he did). 

Luke looked up at him, small smile back on his face. 

“That sounds… great, actually.” He stared at the ground, wondering how he was going to ever be able to pay back this mess of a man with either a good heart or an erection. If it was the latter, he knew the man’s preferred method of payment. Maybe it was both. Luke didn’t care—Han was handsome and willing to help. Any situation that unfolded would be A-OK with Luke… that is, everything short of Han being a serial killer that targeted trust-fund baby runaway fiancées. He seriously doubted it. 

Han seemed to sense Luke’s internal diatribe and went about trying to reassure the kid that it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Listen, kid. You need help and I’m offering it. I just so happen to also find myself attracted to you. We’re both in crappy situations that are a lot alike. We found each other somehow and dealing with this kind of shit alone is a lot harder than facing it with another person, so let’s take it day-by-day. I want to help you.” 

Han didn’t know why he wanted to help him. He was confused with himself, this wasn’t the way he normally acted around people; especially after his quick departure from commitment. He decided to roll with it. He wanted adventure, and who knows? Maybe this kid could end up being one. ‘The heart wants what the heart wants,’ he thought with a content little sigh as he wrapped an arm around Luke’s waist and started to walk towards were the woman had just parked his car around back. 

He looked at Luke and the kid was grinning from ear to ear. It made the ache in Han’s heart ease up a bit. He wanted to protect this kid. He didn’t want anything bad to ever happen to him, and he’d stand in the way of trouble if it meant that Luke was alright as a result. 

He felt Luke’s arm wrap around him in return and felt a sense of honor, like not many people on this Earth would have the privilege of possessing Luke’s trust. He didn’t plan on ruining that trust any time soon. At the same time, he resented himself for being so whipped so quickly. 

They reached the car and the old woman tossed him the keys as she started to climb the steps through the back entrance. 

“I swear to god if y’all get too loud I’m going to break one of your headlights,” she muttered as she slammed the door behind her. Han grinned. He REALLY wanted to be like her when he got older. 

He opened the trunk again to pull out the blankets and two bottles of water before closing it and indicating to Luke that he should get in the passenger seat. Han slammed the driver’s door shut (something that needed to be done in a very specific way due to the warped metal of the car) and handed Luke the softer of the two blankets and a water bottle. ‘Oh yeah, that’s right,’ he thought, ‘he didn’t drink. He only had milk.’ He grinned to himself—the only reason he’d been about to give Luke water was to lessen the morning’s hangover symptoms. Luke took it anyway and thanked him. 

They covered themselves with the blankets and leaned the seats all the way back. They faced each other and smiled. Luke’s eyes started to flutter as he yawned widely. ‘Oh my GOD he’s like a kid, he’s like a little kid, oh my god’ Han thought giddily as he watched the display in front of him. As Luke closed his eyes, Han placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose and ran fingers through the kid’s golden hair as he bid goodnight. 

As he closed his eyes himself, he felt content and pleasantly dizzy. This was the first time he’d smiled in months. This was the best he’d felt in months. This kid was an adventure, he knew it. Han couldn’t wait to find out more about the runaway groom the next day, and hopefully many days after that. He just hoped that maybe, possibly, Luke returned the feelings of giddiness and excitement. 

He did.


End file.
